by Nia Arthurs
He sighed. “When will you realize that I love taking care of you?”
“When will you accept that you don’t have to?”
“I want to.”
“That’s not your job.”
“I love that job.” He leaned into her personal space. “I love you.”
Breana’s eyes popped open wide, and she stared at him in shock. The first time he uttered those words, she responded by running away to Guatemala for two months and bruising his heart in the process.
This time, he had her caged in. She had nowhere to go. Trenton was opening himself up to another emotional beating, but he figured it was worth a shot. He loved his wife. Nothing he could do about that now.
Breana came to herself and placed her fingers on either side of his jaw. “You want to do something really unprofessional?” she asked.
Before he could answer, she brought her lips to his and kissed him. Her mouth was soft and hot and gentle, crushing him and building him back up all at the same time. Because the kiss was from his wife, because the mouth pressing against his was Breana’s and no other’s, it felt like coming home.
She pulled back. Quickly. Too quickly. Looked into his eyes with the tentative uncertainty that said she’d enjoy much more, but they were at work, and they had responsibilities and expectations to uphold.
Trenton silently reminded her that he was the boss by drawing the chair closer with his arms and kissing her soundly. The second kiss threatened to knock the floor from beneath him.
They were honest with the rawness of their emotions. Breana snapped and tugged, the sharpness of her kisses bleeding her anger at his mistake, warning that she wouldn’t tolerate it if it happened again.
He caressed and touched, promising that she was everything he needed and she could trust him with her body as well as her emotions.
They gave and took, pulling the air out of each other and giving it back in the same breath. When Trenton tried to drape himself over her, the chair wheeled back, and they separated abruptly as he stumbled to the floor.
Breana chuckled, quickly covering her reaction by slapping a hand over her mouth. “Are you okay?”
Trenton’s pride stung more than anything else. He got to his feet and brushed his jacket down to calm himself and also to avoid Breana’s amused gaze.
It was probably for the best anyway. If they’d continued, he would have swiped his laptop to the ground to free the surface of his desk, and then he would have been out a laptop for the foreseeable future.
“I’m fine,” he said. Pulling up the hard chair, he set it in front of his desk. When Breana tried to scoot nearer to him, he plucked a ruler from his drawer and held it up so that she couldn’t close the distance.
“What are you doing?” she asked, a teasing glimmer in her eyes. She had no idea what he was thinking right now or she wouldn’t look so incredibly self-satisfied.
“Maintain this distance at all times.”
“Why?”
“Cross it and you’ll find out.”
She shook her head and backed up. “I’m good.”
Trenton smiled and pulled out a file, blowing out a breath as he strained to make sense of the words on the page. Great. Now the only thing he could think about was kissing Breana.
He needed some air.
Rising, Trenton headed for the office kitchen. “Do you want anything?” He tossed over his shoulder.
“No, I’m good.”
Trenton turned back and smiled at his wife who sat calmly in her chair and scrolled through her phone as if the passion they’d shared had been crossed off her to-do list. He shook his head and walked into the main hall.
“Do you need something, sir?” Jamison asked from his desk.
“I’m fine.”
“I got a call from Mr. Warner of the Maruba Hotel. He’s interested in getting some work done—”
The office doors burst open before Jamison could continue his account. Trenton nearly dropped his coffee cup when he saw William Stamp swaggering into the main lobby.
“What’s he doing here?” Trenton panicked.
“Should I have him escorted out, sir?” Jamison hissed.
“Let me handle it.” Trenton walked forward and extended his hand for William to shake. “Mr. Stamp, what are you doing here?”
“Mr. Stamp?” William grinned. “Call me Dad.”
Trenton eyed him with equal parts surprise and horror. “I don’t think—”
“I got to thinking that we started off on the wrong foot yesterday, Trenton. If you’re not busy, I was hoping I could talk you into an early lunch. I, uh, I bought some speakers from the States. They’re top of the line and have a great sound. Since I didn’t get to attend the wedding, I figured I could offer it as a wedding gift.”
“That’s really not necessary,” he said, trying to drive William out the door.
The older man overpowered him and stalked into the middle of the room. “That’s the least I can do for my daughter’s husband.”
“Your what?” A shrill voice thundered. He glanced to the door of his office where Breana stood, head cocked to the left, slim arms over her chest and eyes drilling into his.
Things were about to explode, and Trenton didn’t know who’d be left standing when the carnage was over.
Chapter 15
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Breana wanted to know what ‘other’ wife Trenton had gotten himself involved with. Had she put her heart on the line, moved past her mistrust, and come all the way down here just to find out that he had not only messed with Sheila, but some other woman too?
“Jamison,” Trenton hissed, jerking his eyes in her direction. The astute assistant lumbered to her side and gently placed his hand on her arm as if to guide her out of the room.
Breana jerked her elbow away and glared at Trenton. “Is there something you need to say to me, Trenton?”
The man who had called Trenton his son-in-law spun and watched her as if she were some sideshow at the circus. Breana self-consciously placed a lock of her hair behind her ear and struggled to restrain her anger.
What was Trenton not telling her?
“You…” the man said, his voice a hoarse murmur.
Breana watched him properly. His dark skin and large brown eyes betrayed his age, but his dress and manner seemed far younger than the wrinkles on his skin suggested.
He wore a pinstripe suit with a white shirt beneath. His shoes were brown and shiny. A large gold watch sat on his wrist, and a thick gold chain dangled from his neck. He looked like a 1950’s gangster, an effect she wasn’t altogether sure was incorrect.
“Who… are you?” she asked.
“Breana,” the man turned and moved a step toward her, “it’s me.”
Trenton slid in front of the other man and held his arms out to prevent him from drawing closer to her.
“I don’t understand,” Breana said. “Do we know each other?”
“William, wait. I haven’t gotten a chance to tell her yet. She needs time.”
“Time for what?” Breana demanded. “What’s going on?”
“Sir,” Jamison said, wisely sensing that things were escalating, “wouldn’t it be more prudent to carry on inside your office?”
“William, let’s talk about this privately,” Trenton said.
The man still looked shell-shocked as Trenton tried to pull him past her. Certain that something more important lay just beneath the surface of his strange introduction, Breana matched Trenton’s steps and followed him into the office.
William took the only chair that sat across from Trenton’s desk, and Breana and Trenton retook their original seats. The weird man scooted to the edge of his chair and stared at Breana.
Feeling uncomfortable beneath the perusal and finding it strange that Trenton wasn’t saying anything about it, Breana squirmed in her seat. Should she tell the guy to back off before she gave him something to look at or let it be?
Before she could come to a conclu
sion, William spread his hands on the desk and sighed. “You’re so beautiful.”
Taken aback by his words, which were—strangely—not lewd in the slightest but filled with reverent awe, Breana’s mouth gaped. She stared at the man, eager to discover what he found so fascinating.
“Thank you?”
“Breana,” Trenton said and coughed into his hand, “do you remember much about your father?”
“You know I don’t,” she said, her mind scrambling to catch up with Trenton’s random and obvious question. “My mom raised me alone. Well, with the help of the social services department, but mostly alone.”
The words were inappropriate to speak aloud in front of a stranger, but Breana felt so discombobulated that the filter between her thoughts and her mouth was temporarily out of service.
If she was thinking rationally, as she always strained to do, then Trenton’s question seemed to be strongly alluding to this man’s involvement with her history. The possibility was so frightening, however, that she threw common sense to the wind.
“There’s a… possibility that your mom may not have explained everything when she talked about your father.”
“What are you saying, Trenton?”
“Breana,” William Stamp leaned forward and tapped a thick finger against his chest, “I’m your father.”
His words pierced her ears and smashed into her brain. The lights in her head flickered and she shut down for a moment, straining to decipher the imagined from reality.
She must have dozed out and dreamed those words. They couldn’t be true. They couldn’t exist in this realm. The man before her was a stranger. A shallow acquaintance she would have passed if she had bothered to see him on the street.
And yet, he sat here claiming to be her father?
Breana shook her head. “I don’t have a father.”
“I know what your mother said about me and… I’m so sorry that you had to grow up without knowing who I am.”
“Trenton!” Breana glanced over at him, her eyes wide. “Tell me this is some sick joke.”
“I’m sorry,” Trenton said, holding her hand. He glared at William. “I asked you to let me tell her.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I just,” William gazed at her and sucked in a deep breath, “I saw her and I needed her to know.”
Breana pried her fingers out of Trentno’s grasp and folded her arms across her chest. “How do I know that you’re my real father?”
“What?” he gawked.
“Well, you could just be making it up or something.”
“Why would I make up something like that?” William asked.
“There are all types of people in this world.”
“Breana,” William pleaded, “listen to me. I didn’t know you existed until a few months ago when I saw your marriage to Trenton Lorde in a newspaper. I did some math and realized that you were mine.”
“So you don’t really know.”
“Breana—”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “My mom said she was sleeping around and didn’t know who my father was. I can’t believe that it’s you. It could be anyone.”
“Your mother exaggerated. That wasn’t what happened.” When he saw that she was still unconvinced, William offered. “We can take a paternity test. We can—”
“Forget it,” Breana said. “I don’t want to hear.”
“Bree,” Trenton tugged on her hand, “why don’t you take things slow and think before you come to any decision?”
Shaking his hold, Breana stared straight into William’s face. “I grew up without a father, and now I don’t need one. Whether or not you’re related to me, whether or not I have your DNA, it doesn’t matter. Please just leave me alone.”
“Breana!” William cried.
“I’m sorry.” Trenton nodded at the older man and ushered for him to stand. “Why don’t we end it here for today?”
William stood and looked over at his daughter. “I’m sorry that I wasn’t there for you, Breana. I want to make up for it now. Please let me.”
“Come on,” Trenton said. He walked William outside and closed the door softly behind him.
As soon as the men were gone, Breana deflated. She flopped her arm onto the desk and buried her face in the crook of her elbow. Her father? He wasn’t some figment of her imagination, a shadowy figure that seemed especially mystical during Father’s Day.
He was real.
When her mind cleared and she could think without feeling like her brain would explode, Breana would call her mother and clarify this entire thing.
It wasn’t like she’d never asked about her father. Watching the other kids at school with their fathers had prompted several questions from her younger self. Merna had always responded with the reminder that she could be her mother and father in one.
Breana had learned to stop asking and simply gazed longingly at the fathers from afar. When she was old enough to learn about sex and the reproductive system, Merna had admitted to her confusion about who her real father was.
It was something that Breana accepted without question. Her mother had already been through several cycles of relapse and recoveries that she could easily imagine the person she had been before the drugs had chewed away at the rest of her morals.
Living with a drug addict had its fair share of struggles and heartache. Merna was a superb liar and could con an islander into buying seawater if she needed money to feed her habit, but the one thing Breana had held sacred was her birth history.
Her mother wouldn’t lie about something so personal and important. Not when it applied to Breana’s life and well-being.
“Hey,” Trenton said, returning into the office. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine.”
“Breana…” he began.
“I said I’m fine.”
He looked at her and then held out his arm.
She glanced at his pale fingers. “What?”
He insisted until she put her hand in his. In one fell swoop, Trenton tugged her out of the chair and claimed the seat. With his fingers still folded over hers, he pulled her into his lap.
Trenton brushed her hair and sighed. “I’m here for you if you want to talk about it.”
Breana listened to his heartbeat and closed her eyes, leaning into his strength and sincerity. She would find some way to move on with her life after today, and the fact that she’d do so with Trenton by her side made the prospect seem more achievable.
He kissed her temple and stroked her hair until all the unease and anxiety floated away. The day had taken a bizarre turn, but she was thankful that Trenton was there, helping her through it. It was so good to be home.
Chapter 16
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Trenton spent the next day carefully watching Breana’s mood. William had dropped the bomb of his paternity with very little consideration. He knew there was no ‘good’ way to break something like that, but he’d have preferred to prepare Breana first.
Trenton came to a stop outside the Barrington and Co building and shut down the engine. Outside his window, the heavy traffic and thick crowd of pedestrians on the sidewalk seemed to welcome the weekend.
Fat beams of sunlight danced over coconut trees, and the sky burned a fierce pink. In the distance, the Caribbean Sea crashed against the rocky wall that barred it from the land and absorbed the hue of the sky, throwing back a unique shade of blue.
As he texted Breana to let her know he was waiting outside, Trenton wondered how he should bring up the topic of her father. Though he understood why Breana might be indifferent to getting to know William, he hated to see her shut him out completely.
Regret was a pain, something he could personally attest to. He didn’t want Breana suffering from the what if’s that could wreck her world if she let them. If she could have a simple discussion with her mother and maybe entertain the thought of meeting William again, he would be satisfied.
“Hey,” she said, climbing in
to the car.
“Hi,” he replied, shaking his deep contemplation to smile over at her. As much as he’d enjoyed having his wife beside him at work, Breana seemed much more alive now that she had returned to her station at the marketing firm.
Her beautiful brown skin fairly glowed in the maroon jacket and pencil skirt. Her hair, pasted back and away from her face, curled riotously in her ponytail and he playfully tugged on a curl.
“How was your first day back?” he asked, admiring her pretty face.
She chuckled and played with the hem of her blouse. Her shyness captivated him and he found himself thankful for this quiet moment.
“What?” he asked, delighting in her pleasure, but unsure of what had caused it.
“It’s been a while since someone’s asked me that question.”
“What question? How was your first day back?”
She nodded. His wife was so strong and bold that he sometimes forgot how fragile her formative years had been. Breana’s heart melted when he asked something as simple as that. It was a humbling reminder.
“Well,” he grinned to return the light mood, “how was it?”
“It was fine. Cady’s back to her old self, well, a slightly toned down version of her old self. She’s much easier to work with. She’s changed a lot since the incident. I think she’s… embarrassed.”
“I would be too if my ex robbed a necklace filled with drugs from a Mexican mob and gave them to me.”
“Don’t make me laugh, Trenton. That was a really serious situation.”
“I know,” he said, pulling into traffic. “What do you want to do this weekend?”
“It’s only been a day since I’ve been back so I wanted to get the house in order and maybe do some cleaning. Why?”
“Oh,” he sighed in disappointment. “You want to clean? I have someone who does that.”
“It’s a waste of money to pay for something we can do ourselves.” She sent him an exasperated glance. “Do we really have to argue about this again?”
“I’ve never seen someone fighting to clean up before.”
“I’m not fighting to clean. I’m fighting to save money.”